


White T-Shirts

by mattaretto



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattaretto/pseuds/mattaretto
Summary: Steve realizes the importance of his white t-shirts.





	White T-Shirts

**Author's Note:**

> some fluff, for once (kinda). its short.

He’d been in a lot of interviews. Asked a lot of questions. But this one. This one question had the captain flustered. Stumbling over his words. He couldn’t form sentences. He couldn’t think straight. Everything went back to her. He hadn’t thought about her in years. Why was he thinking about her now. Why was one question making him think of her?

He racked his brain. Why her. Why now. After all this time. Think, think, think. The question, the question, what about the question. His shirt, was there an importance to white shirts. Why white shirts. Why did white shirts remind him of her so much? He racked his brain, over and over, trying to pinpoint the exact reason white shirts reminded him of her. And then he did. He remembered. 

He remembered the fair where they met. He and Bucky had gone to the Brooklyn Fair. He remember it being hot. Hot enough for him wear just his white shirt, suspenders, and trousers. He remembers Bucky flirting with numerous women. He remembered how each one nearly fell at his feet. 

Except her. No, not her. Never her. She didn’t even spare a glance at Bucky. Offered him a distant hello while she stared at him. He remembered having never wished more than in that moment that he wasn’t color blind, even if it was partly. He remembered being 17 and having to look up at her. He remembered how it used to bug him. But with her it didn’t matter. Not one bit. Because if he had to spend the rest of his life looking up at her, he’d happily do so. 

The following weeks. God, the following weeks were the best weeks of his life. He remembered being by her side as often as they could get away with it. He remembered it being the hottest summer to date. He remembered going out every day, even though neither of them had money. He remembered spending the rest of the summer with her. 

He remembered the end of the summer. How they traveled to an empty to field to look at the stars. He remembered the blankets and pillows he threw into the bed of the truck. He remembered talking his neighbor into letting him borrow his truck in return for cleaning his apartment. But by god, he couldn’t care any less. That week of work would always be worth it. 

He remembered so vividly how her lips felt against his. How her body felt against his. How the moon light reflected off her skin. He remembered staying the night in that field. Falling asleep tangled in each other under the mass of blankets. He remembered waking up and seeing her sitting on the tail of the bed, watching the sun rise. How she wore his white shirt. 

White shirts. The importance of white shirts. It all came back to her. She was the reason behind his white shirts. Yea, white shirts were definitely important.


End file.
